Sorry but I only accept female disciples! - Chapter 143: The Beast Tide [8]

“Shit, is this really how I turn out?!”In the time of war he was known as the Body Flicker, Forbidden Magic Maker, and the Golden Blur.Arthur Vaelthorne.He had so many titles that it was unsurprising that the empire was the side that won the war, all because he had participated in it.A man that had the potential to become the strongest, rivaling the old powers, and the talent to back it up....Only ended up as a hidden boss in a popular game, meeting his end at the hands at one of his own students.A powerful hidden boss, unfortunately he had the fate of any other boss: Beaten by the protagonist.Now, with a second chance and the memories of one of the game's top players, he has a chance to rewrite his fate.

David, reborn into the world of Resident Evil, accidentally killed a reincarnator and activated the system that had always been inactive within him.From that moment on, he embarked on a path of plundering beauties and wealth, traveling across different worlds of movies, games, and anime.In the Saw universe, he seduced and fucked Jigsaw's wife. In the vast Marvel Multiverse, he fucked beauties like Natasha Romanoff and the Scarlet Witch.Even the cosmic entity Phoenix Force couldn't escape his hands.Still not satisfied, he went to the DC world, where he slept with Wonder Woman, the seductive Catwoman, the Queen of the Atlantis Mera, and countless others.But even all of these were merely fleeting moments in his endless journey across the infinite cosmos.With each world, he faced constant challenges, plundered unimaginable resources, and stole away the romantic encounters and wealth that were destined for the so-called male protagonists.“Only children make choices.”“I want everything!!!”

When Zhou Shu woke up, he learned that he had become a Forging Apprentice at a workshop in the Forging Division of the Great Xia empire.

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.